Deal with the Devil
by dryskim
Summary: In order to save Roach's life, Ghost must make a deal. But is the cost worth the gain? Sequel to Same Stuff, Different Day. Think Modern Warfare 2.5
1. Chapter 1

Ghost sat watching over Roach. Just because Makarov was giving them medical aid didn't mean Ghost trusted the man. It had been a long two days, Roach had been improving but he still had a long road to recovery. Ghost touched his shoulder which was covered in gauze , the Russian medic had managed to dig the bullet out but not before he tore his shoulder to pieces trying to find it. Ghost was at least happy that Roach had been given a doctor of comparable skill to his array of injuries while Ghost was left with Captain Shaky Hands. Roach stirred, and then weakly opened his eyes.

"Ghost?" whispered Roach, his voice strained and weak. He tried to raise up but Ghost gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"In the flesh. Now you stay down, no use causing yourself any undo pain." said Ghost, returning to his seat.'

"Where are we?" asked Roach, noticing that he wasn't looking at the tile ceiling of most hospitals instead he was looking at a rustic wood one.

"We're in Makarov's safe house.."

"Did MacTavish show up yet?"

Ghost sighed, he didn't really know how to explain that they were not there by choose but by force. "No, he's not coming. We've been captured.."

"Captured? But..why didn't you escape?" asked Roach, noticing that Ghost appeared to be decently healed to the point that if he wanted to, he could free himself and escape to the countryside.

"Their was no way in hell I was leaving you with that madman. We're getting through this together. You understand?"

"Yes, sir." said Roach, a small smile on his face.

"Ah, what a touching reunion." said Makarov with a laugh. The terrorist was standing in the door of the room with a smug look on his face, clapping his hands.

"What the hell do you want now, Makarov?" growled Ghost, turning to face the man responsible for their unwanted stay.

"I need your assistance, not delicate matters." Makarov took a step closer, causing Ghost to tense up.

"What the hell makes you think I would help you?"

"I figured you would say something like that." said Makarov with a grin. He pinched the IV feeding morphine to Roach and smiled.

"You better bloody stop it!" snarled Ghost, rising to his feet, fists balled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. You attack me and your friend won't live through the week." said Makarov, watching Roach's face distort in pain. "But if you work for me, we will keep him alive and well. Do you understand, Lieutenant?"

Ghost took a look at Roach and then back at Makarov, "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"That is the problem with you Westerners. You are more interested in 'friendship' and 'brotherhood' then your own safety. I assume you have agreed?"

"I'm only doing this for Roach! Once he's back on his feet, it'll be your ass that'll need a hospital bed!" growled Ghost.

"We'll see. We'll see." replied Makarov, exiting the room and locking the door.

Ghost put his head in his hands and softly said to himself, "Oh, god. What have I done, please let it be worth it…"

Soap shifted in the bed and pain shot through his body. He gritted his teeth and drug himself out of the bed, he staggered down the hall and into Nikolai's small kitchen. Nikolai's 'place' turned out to be his small apartment in South America, given Nikolai wasn't an official 141 member, Shepherd's band of merry men hadn't broken down his front door. Yet. Soap opened the refrigerator and shifted through the various food stuffs. He picked up the milk carton only to realize it was month old. Needless to say, that carton ended up in the trash can. He settled for a bottle of Nikolai's vodka, he figured it might numb the pain a bit. The table was covered in various maps and newspaper cutouts, along with the occasional box of ammunition or firearm. He brushed these aside and sat down at the table, as he popped the cap on the bottle. As he did so, Nikolai and Price burst through the door both weighted down with supplies.

"Soap, what did I tell you about getting out of bed?" scolded Price, laying down his bag of items.

"I'm not three, I can handle myself." muttered Soap, taking a swig from the bottle.

"Is that my vodka?" asked Nikolai, noticing the bottle in Soap's hand.

"Yes, is that a problem?" asked Soap, taking a long drink from the bottle.

"That was a present from my first wife!" shouted Nikolai, attempting to take back the bottle, "Give it back before you taint it's pureness!"

Finally, Soap gave up the bottle and Nikolai hurried to return it to it's spot in his refrigerator. "Never knew you were married…" said Soap.

"Da. Three times." returned Nikolai, "First one was best. She was like an angel..Good relationship. But she died before I returned from Afghanistan. The second one was the exact opposite, she took everything and divorced me. Last wife left me five years ago, said I was spending too much time helping the Brit's and not enough with her."

"Never knew that about you, Nikolai." said Price.

"Da. You never asked." muttered Nikolai, trying to keep his bottle of vodka from being further tainted by the evils of MacTavish's drinking.

**This story could be considered Modern Warfare 2.5. It's a sort of in between while we wait for Modern Warfare 3 to be made. It'll be more of a subplot then a full-blown thirty chapter epic.**

**Please Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

Ghost awoke to find himself lying in a warm bed. At first, he thought it was all a dream, until he felt the all too real pain in his shoulder. Immediately, he scurried out of the bed, fearing that for some odd reason he'd climbed in with Roach. Looking back he found that the bed was still empty, which caused it's own worry. While Ghost was trying to figure out a reason for Roach's absence that didn't end with the words dead, the missing man entered.

"I see you're finally awake, sir." said Roach, holding a coffee cup.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" asked Ghost, accepting the cup.

"Figured I could stretch my legs a bit." returned Roach, downing his coffee in the method that all military men do, in one gulp.

"But I would have figured you'd be off your feet for a whole month or so.." replied Ghost, staring into his coffee like it might bite him.

"Eh. I've always been a fast healer." muttered Roach, gobbling up a doughnut that he'd brought with him.

"But seriously, you took a .44 Magnum to the chest and three days later you act like nothing happened?" asked Ghost, noting how crazy this all seemed.

"Do you not remember how many times I got injured last week?" said Roach, remembering when things were so much simpler. "I mean, I fell like three stories. And then that other time I got hit in the face with a brick. So I figure I can walk this off."

"You're a lucky bugger, I'll give you that." muttered Ghost, rolling up the lower half of his mask. If Makarov had put anything in the drinks, he figured it would have affected Roach by now. As he put the cup to his lips, Roach fell to the floor and began screaming.

"I don't like our odds." said Price, surveying the meager pile of weapons lying before him.

"Well, we've got a UMP. M9, USP.45, an AK-47, and one M1911.45. Only problem, we're low on ammunition." replied Soap, noting that they only had one magazine for the AK-47.

"Da. I know of someone. He is here in Rio. We could buy ammunition off him." said Nikolai.

The two Captains looked at him.

"What? Is their something in my teeth?" asked Nikolai, wondering why the pair were glaring at him.

"I took out four of Shepherd's men with a knife and you could have gotten us ammo at any time?" asked Soap, touching his stitches, which had ripped during the skirmish.

"We did not have an ammunition problem before.." replied Nikolai, hefting the AK-47.

"We've always had an ammunition problem, Nikolai! We're fugitives! It's hard to buy equipment with your face on every wall!" said Soap, returning his USP.45 to it's holster.

"Enough fighting. We need to leave this safe house before more of Shepherd's goons show up.." muttered Price, having stripped the soldiers of their gear. Which hadn't been much more then M9 magazines. "Nikolai, do you have any transport? We can gather equipment at the next location. We need to survive the escape first."

"Da. I know another guy." said Nikolai.

Soap just looked at him.

"What? I have connections."

"Ah, shit.." muttered Roach, clutching his side. "Hurts like hell…"

"What's wrong?" asked Ghost, he was a foot soldier, not a medic. He could fix external wounds but not internal ones, and since he couldn't see what was wrong he couldn't exactly help.

"Morphine.. Need Morphine…" replied Roach, pointing to the pile of pills and other bottles. After much searching, Ghost found the needle marked Morphine. Quickly, he injected it and watched as the pain on Roach's face disappeared. Ghost helped Roach back into the bed, "Still think you can just walk it off?" smirked Ghost.

"Shut up.." growled Roach, "Guess I got hurt worse then I thought."

"You guess? You were hit by a .44 Magnum at pointblank, almost got hit by a mortar, and took a piece of shrapnel as long as my hand. Most people would have died by now." said Ghost, listing injuries on his hand.

"Guess I'm not most people." said Roach with a smirk, laying his head back on the pillow.

The door clicked which caused Ghost to turn, at the door stood Anatoly. "Ah, good. You are awake. Makarov wants you to be ready in ten minutes, important deal going down. He wants you as insurance." said the Russian, dropping off a pile of clothes to replace the bloodstained pair Ghost had on now. And with that the man left, presumably to attend to his other duties.

"Insurance? What the hell does that mean?" asked Roach, turning his head while Ghost changed.

"I think I know what kind." replied Ghost, finding a fully loaded M9 slipped in between the shirt and pants.

**Short, but to the point. Just like good ole Anatoly. **

**Review, please.**

**Someone asked why Shepherd shot Ghost in the shoulder instead of the waist. First, I figure if you want to kill someone you aim at the upper torso, that's just what I've always heard.**

**Second, Shepherd doesn't really aim to Ghost. It's more of a point and shoot which makes it semi-likely that Ghost took a round in the shoulder.**


	3. Chapter 3

Rio. Ghost hated the place, this was the second time he'd been to the city. Last time, he'd ended up with a terrible sunburn and his car was stolen, along with his wallet. Ghost sighed as he stood awaiting Makarov's 'dealer'. Ghost hadn't managed to get any information out of Makarov so he was in the dark about the purpose of this meeting, in his left hand he held a suitcase which he presumed held payment for Makarov's friend. His right hand was resting on the butt of his M9, just in case anyone tried to pull a fast one. Ghost had already been betrayed once, but that was by someone he trusted. Makarov didn't fall into that category, if the chance arose Ghost would gladly put a bullet in the terrorist's head.

Rio. Soap hated the place, the smell of death, decay, and drugs. The three D's as he called it, seemed like everywhere he went he was surrounded by those three smells. Nikolai had gotten the trio work as 'bounty hunters', Price hadn't been to keen on the idea but in order for Nikolai's friend to provide transport, shelter, and armaments they had to pay up front.

"Where the hell is this guy, Nikolai? We don't have all day." grumbled Price, having followed Nikolai deep into the Favela, the Russian showing no sign of stopping.

"A little farther. The deal will be taking place in the lower level of the Favela, on a basket ball court." replied the Russian, leading the two Brit's through a narrow alley.

As the trio neared their destination, they were stopped by a member of the militia, "This area is off limits, leave now or we shoot you."

The militia man was on the floor before he finished his threat, his friends running when the trio pulled their guns.

"Great, now his friends will be on alert. Good work, Price." said Soap sarcastically, dragging the body into a dark corner.

Ghost wiped the sweat off his brow, the basket ball court providing no cover from the elements. Makarov was doing the same, he said "It isn't like Rojas to be late.. Something is wrong."

"So what? We skip town and call off the deal?" asked Ghost hopefully.

Makarov glared back at him, maybe he'd been a little too hopeful. "No, we wait. He will turn up eventually."

Ghost groaned.

Roach found himself surprisingly nervous without Ghost. He had special forces training and he'd killed men twice as large as the Russians that guarded the estate and yet he still felt a strange fear to be alone. He hadn't been this worried when he went off without MacTavish in the snowstorm to plant C-4 during their mission to recover the ACS, but then again he knew if trouble befell him the Captain would be providing support from his perch. He decided to take a peek at Makarov's estate in an effort to stave off boredom, he wondered what happened to Ozone, Scarecrow, Archer, Toad, and all the others, had they survived Shepherd's betrayal? He hoped they'd made it out okay, he eased the door open and stepped out. The next thing he knew, the wind was knocked out of him and he was flat on the floor. He could see another pair of feet join the pair standing over him and he tried to make sense of what they were saying.

"Lev? What the hell? Why would you do this to a guest? Have you no manners?" said a voice in a scolding tone, which Roach recognized as belonging to Anatoly.

"He..he came out and so I..I hit him.." said Lev, or so Roach presumed.

"For what reason?" asked Anatoly, helping Roach to his feet.

"Makarov said never to let anyone he didn't authorize in." said Lev.

"Lev.. You realize that is an inside door, Roach was already authorized to be inside the estate."

"Oh…"

Anatoly shooed Lev away and returned to Roach, "Pardon, Lev. He has the mind of a child, as you can see."

"Don't worry about it," said Roach, finally getting air back into his lungs. "I'm used to being other people's punching bag."

Ghost glanced at his watch, this Rojas fellow was twenty minutes late. Rojas had finally showed his face and Ghost could tell based on body language the man was tense. He and Makarov were talking quietly in the corner of the court, Ghost standing behind scanning the rooftops, but also listening intently to their conversation.

"Makarov.. I'm sorry for my lateness… We had a minor security breach, nothing major." said Rojas, his facial expression giving away how truly 'minor' this breach was.

"Don't waste any more of my time, Rojas. Do you have the chemicals or not?" asked Makarov, his eyes boring into the other man.

"Yes, of course. Let me get my men to bring the van." said Rojas, pulling out a small radio, in Portuguese, he said "Bring up the van. Quickly, and don't screw this up!"

"Bring up the van. Quickly, and don't screw this up!" squawked the radio.

Nikolai picked up the same radio and said, "On the way, sir." He nodded towards Soap who started the battered van.

"My men are on the way, Makarov. I assume you have a way of transporting the gas?" said Rojas, relaxing a bit.

This statement may have caused Rojas to relax but it caused Ghost to tense, he couldn't imagine what Makarov might do with a canister of nerve gas. He looked to Makarov for a possible answer but found none, just the same smirk he'd been wearing since Rojas had said he had the gas. He could hear the clatter of the van coming down the road, the van reached the bottom of the hill and continued accelerating as if on a collision course with the trio. The van barreled through the chain link fence and onto the basket ball court. Barely two feet from the group it came to a squealing stop and the side door slide open to reveal a familiar face.

"Soap?" asked Ghost, delighted his commander had survived Shepherd's betrayal.

"Ghost?" asked Soap, noticing that Ghost stood beside Makarov.

Rojas took off in a dead sprint, fearing the worst.

"Price, Rojas is headed towards the upper Favela. Are you ready to intercept?" said MacTavish, training his USP.45 on Ghost and Makarov.

"Roger that, Soap. You worry about Makarov." crackled the radio, projecting Price's voice.

Soap turned back to Ghost, his pistol trained on his chest. "So you're a traitor." he said softly.

"I'm not a bloody traitor!" growled Ghost, his own pistol drawn while MacTavish was preoccupied with the radio.

"Kill him, Lieutenant." said Makarov, standing behind Ghost with a sadistic smirk on his face.

"I don't see how that could be. You're taking orders from an international terrorist." said MacTavish, "How long were you working for Shepherd? Why would you betray your own country?"

"I never worked for Shepherd!" shouted Ghost, his M9 hovering over MacTavish's chest.

"What about Makarov? How long have you been working for him?" asked MacTavish, pouring salt on the open wounds that made up Ghost's heart.

"I'm doing this for Roach! Tell me you wouldn't do the same!" shouted Ghost, trying to wash away his sins with good motives. Unwilling to accept that he was traitor to his own country.

"I would rather die then work for filth like Makarov." said Soap, noticing that Makarov glared at him when he was referred to as filth. "And think that Roach would see it the same way."

"Captain…I..." started Ghost, only to be cut off by MacTavish.

"No, Ghost. Ghost, the next time we meet I hope you're not following Makarov around like a whipped puppy." said MacTavish, "Or I will kill you."

Soap then hoisted himself behind the wheel of the van the sound of 9mm rounds pinging off the rear of the van as he drove away.

**So Makarov's deal didn't go too well…Roach gets punched…Soap learns of Ghost's working with Makarov…And Ghost's former best friend has vowed to kill him! Not a good day for anybody, really..**

**Read and Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Soapy Situation"

Day 3 - 12:23

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141 Ultranationalist

Rio de Janeriro, 1700ft A.S.L.

The M9 recoiled against Ghost's palm, the slide locking back to signify the weapon to be empty. Ghost growled and reached for another magazine, the battered van still within range….but before he could load the next magazine it was slapped away by Makarov.

"Enough!" growled Makarov, "I don't have time for your tantrums! We need to leave now, before the whole Favela is out to get us!" Striding off towards where they had stashed their car. Ghost stooped down and retrieved the magazine, and then trotted after Makarov, thinking about Soap's last words, "Ghost, the next time we meet I hope you're not following Makarov around like a whipped puppy. Or I will kill you."

Ghost slid the pistol back into his waist band and started the small car's engine.

"Is what he said troubling you?" asked Makarov, a coy smile on his face.

Ghost said nothing, which Makarov took as a yes.

"How dare he call you a traitor when he is the real traitor." said Makarov, "The very thought of it disgusts me."

"MacTavish is the traitor?" asked Ghost, awe struck certainly not the Captain, "And who told you this?"

"Shepherd, of course. MacTavish was his right-hand man from the very beginning. For someone who has been betrayed in the past, you didn't seem prepared for this one." continued Makarov.

"After five-years of service together you'd think you'd be able to trust a man." said Ghost, struggling with what the terrorist was saying. Surely, he was lying. MacTavish had always put his men first, their was no way he would have betrayed them. Or was their?

"Administrative Problems"

Day 4 - 01:43

Cpt. John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 War criminal

Somewhere over the South Atlantic Ocean

MacTavish rose from where he was sitting in the cargo bay and cracked his back. Since they were international war criminals, they were being smuggled into Russia. Soap hadn't taken the idea very well at first,

"Russia? Bloody Russia? That's your place of hiding?" shouted Soap, driving the van to the airport, Nikolai in the passenger seat.

"Da. I know I guy. We will be safe." replied Nikolai, watching the scenery.

"Calm down, Soap. Russia's a big place, they won't be able to search the entire country." said Price, sitting in the rear of the van, "And who'd think we'd be hiding in the very country that wants us dead?"

He didn't like the idea at the time, and it still seemed like a stupid plan hours later. As he sauntered over the small bathroom he ran across Price, who was sitting on the hood of a Humvee smoking a cigar.

"What are you doing up so late, old man?" asked Soap, climbing onto the hood next the Captain.

"Soap, we need to talk." replied Price, puffing on the cigar, "It's about Ghost."

"What? But Ghost is dead-" started Soap.

"Don't lie to me, Soap. I heard what you said to him." said Price, "Did you ever try and think it through from his point of view?"

"You were listening in on my comms?" asked Soap, wondering what else the Captain might be listening in on.

"Soap, that's not important right now. Ghost is our priority." said Price, ignoring Soap's question. "You know more about him then me, you know what he's been through. What he's seen."

"And?" asked Soap, not seeing the point.

"Soap, he's already been betrayed once. And he lost everyone he ever cared about because of it. He's not going to let that happen again." continued Price, "Roach is all that's left of those that he cared for. He will do everything in his power to keep from losing him, do you understand what I'm saying?" asked Price, turning to Soap.

"So he'll be like when he first showed up?" asked Soap, remembering when Ghost had arrived as a Sergeant straight out of the 22nd Regiment, remembering the constant nightmares, and during the day he acted like a shell of a man.

"Only this time it will be much worse. This time he may not be able to recover. Soap, you've just pushed him over the edge." said Price.

"Me? What did I do?" asked Soap, beginning to tire of the Captain's riddles.

"Soap, you were the one man he thought he could trust. By calling him a traitor, you've broken that trust. I hope you realize what you've done." finished Price, tossing the cigar butt on the floor before crushing it beneath his boot.

Soap awoke to the foggy grey skies of Russia. He groaned and drug himself to his feet, Price being up early as usual while Nikolai was still sleeping. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes he went to rouse Nikolai, who instantly went to draw his M9 from his jacket, only to realize who it was standing over him.

"Are we about to land?" asked the Russian, stretching his limbs.

"Yeah, best get ready." said Soap, heading back to gather his equipment. "Think I should have told him?"

"If he knew we were jumping he would have never agreed to get on the plane." replied Price, a slight smirk visible beneath his mustache.

Nikolai ambled up to the pair and realized what they were packing. "No! You told me we would be landing this plane! You said nothing about jumping out of it!"

"Oh, will you bloody calm down. You'll be fine." said Soap, strapping into his own parachute, "Big baby."

Finally, after much complaining on Nikolai's part the trio were prepared to leave the plane. A small green light in the rear of the C-130 indicated that they were over the drop zone. Soap stood by the door release and gave Price a thumbs up, which Price returned, indicating that everyone was set and ready. Soap then forced the lever down, causing a massive door on the rear of the plane to open, revealing the gray cloud cover the occasional patch of green breaking through. While Nikolai was busy pointing out how high up they were, Price pushed him over the side. Causing the Russian to begin falling like a rock, Price soon followed. Soap just smirked and bounded off the platform into the open sky.

**As you may have noticed, I have tried to keep from causing any 'jarring' POV switches and also because The Drunk Fisherman said mission setting indicators look cool, what do the rest of you think of them?**

**Read and Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Home Alone"

Day 4 - 10:21

Sgt. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141-Prisoner of War

Georgian-Russian Border

Roach heard the large pine doors that led to the estate slam close, followed by the sounds of Makarov speaking rapidly in Russian. The door to Roach's room opened to reveal Ghost, looking ragged and tired. He threw himself down in the small chair opposite of Roach and sighed.

"I assume it wasn't a good day at the office, honey." said Roach, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not in the slightest," murmured Ghost, placing his sunglasses on the small table next to him. "So how where things back here?"

"Not too bad. Chatted with Anatoly a bit, you seen the news?" asked Roach, shifting through a pile of Russian magazines and newspapers.

"No. I haven't seen the news." replied Ghost, rubbing his forehead.

"Well, you might want to check this out." said Roach, finally finding a newspaper that happened to be in English. He handed it to Ghost.

Ghost unfolded the paper to find the portraits of his former Captains staring back at him.

"Looks like they got all the credit for killing Shepherd." smirked Roach, remembering how Ghost had tried to kill the corrupt general with an M9.

Ghost said nothing as he thought back to their meeting in Rio. 'They couldn't have been helping Shepherd if he tried to kill them as well..' thought Ghost, 'Unless…they wanted all his power for themselves and managed to get caught red handed..'

"You okay?" asked Roach, noticing that Ghost seemed to be taking the events particularly hard.

"Y-yeah. Just don't know who to believe anymore." said Ghost, crumpling up the newspaper and tossing it on the floor.

"A Good Ass"

Day 4 - 10:21

Cpt. John 'Soap' MacTavish

Former Task Force 141-War Criminal

Caucasus Mountains

Soap was beginning to think that Nikolai was merely leading them in circles until they were eaten by wolves, four hours of wandering in the mountains of Russia can do that to a man. Finally, they reached a clearing which Nikolai said was the location where they would meet their contact. The only difference between this clearing and the last was the smell. A distinctive odor that nearly caused Soap to gag.

"Price, you smell that?" asked Soap, his eyes watering. Wondering if the old man could even smell it in his old age.

"Yeah, Kamarov." replied Price, wriggling his nose.

"Ah, Captain Price. I am surprised to see you again. I never suspected that Nikolai's 'friends' would in fact be you." said a large Russian, dressed in an entirely black uniform. Topped off with a Ushanka and a bushy red beard, along with the cologne that Soap remembered fondly from five years ago. Then quieter, directly to Nikolai he said "Nikolai, I thought I told you I would not house criminals!"

"Da. But they are not criminals." said Nikolai, pointing out both Price and MacTavish, "You know them better then me, they would never do something like that without the right reasons."

"You make a valid point, my friend. I shall trust you that you are not lying to me." said Kamarov, rubbing his beard.

"Bloody right, he does." said Soap, butting into the conversation.

"Ah, my friend! You are here, too? This is like a reunion!" said Kamarov, joyously scooping Soap into a bear hug.

"Kamarov, we can save the greetings for later. Can you lead us to the safe house?" asked Price, wondering when the rest of the Loyalists would join their commander.

"Of course, Captain Price. We shall be their shortly." said Kamarov, dropping Soap to the ground. Before heading up the hill overlooking a small village. Stopping at the top he pointed to small house on the other side of the village, "There. That is my safe house, we shall be safe there."

Soap nudged Price and then asked "Have we been here before?" Seemingly having been to this part of Russia at one point in his life.

"Last time was when we had to save Nikolai's arse." replied Price, following Kamarov down the hill.

"And it is a good ass that you saved." said Nikolai, from the back of the group. Which caused the rest of the group to turn towards him, "At least that's what my first wife said.."

**If you couldn't tell from my pitiful descriptions, our war criminal friends are at the location where Blackout from the first Modern Warfare took place. And a brought back a Russian with a great beard as well!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Simon…"

"Simon… why didn't you save us?"

Ghost slowly turned, only to see the family he'd lost years prior. Among them, a new addition- Roach.

"Roach-?" gasped Ghost, "But you're still alive!"

"Am I, Ghost? Or am I dead like everyone else you tried to protect?" asked Roach, his words cutting like knives, "How much is your protection really worth?"

"I-I'm doing the best I can!" shouted Ghost, trying to overpower the murmurs coming from the rest of the congregation- all agreeing with Roach.

"Well, your best isn't good enough! We trusted you and you let us down!" shouted the undead, a chorus of voices.

Ghost fell to his knees, clutching his head in an effort to block out the voices of those he failed to save. Instead, the voices became louder.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" cried Ghost, the voices rising into an unbearable crescendo.

"Apologies won't bring back the dead, English…"

"Ghost…"

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" screamed Ghost, huddled on the floor, the voices resounding _inside _his head.

"Ghost! Ghost, wake up!"

"Why didn't you save us?"

"You always were a failure…"

"You let us die, we believed in you!"

"Stop it…please…stop it…" muttered Ghost, his voice barely a whisper.

"Failure…"

"Failure…""You let us all down…"

"Ghost! Wake up!"

"How could you let them kill us?"

Ghost felt a soft tug on his shirt, causing him to roll over.

"Uncle Simon are you okay?" asked a small voice, the voice belonging to a small boy of five.

Ghost swept the Joseph into a tight hug, overjoyed to see his nephew alive. He released the boy slightly to ask him how he managed to survive only for his face to splotched with blood. His eyes' the stare of the dead.

Quietly, his voice said "How could you let me die, Uncle Simon?"

"Waking Sleeping Beauty"

Day 5 - 06:06

Sgt. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141 - Prisoner of War

Georgian-Russian Border

Ghost was acting weird. It started out as odd murmuring in his sleep, something about doing the best he could or something. Then it became screaming and thrashing in the bed, it was beginning to worry Roach. He figured if he told Makarov that Ghost was having nightmares that my very well cause him to lose touch with reality that Makarov might not take it too well. Roach grabbed a glass of water off the nightstand and poured over Ghost's face, the Lieutenant's eyes snapping open in an instant.

Coughing, he peeled the soppy wet mask off and tossed it on the floor. "What the 'ell was that for?" growled Ghost, drying his face with his shirt.

"You were having a nightmare. Figured I'd wake you up before your yelling woke the whole damn house." replied Roach, trying his best to keep his eyes off Ghost's scar, a pet peeve of the Lieutenant.

Squeezing out his mask, Ghost said "Sorry if I woke you…It was nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing. Wanna talk about it?" asked Roach, knowing full well that Ghost was lying to him.

"No." growled Ghost, drawing the wet mask over his face.

Roach figured Ghost would talk to him when he was ready, so he let it slide and continued, "So you wanna go with me and Anatoly to that bookstore up the road?"

"Why the 'ell are you headed to a bookstore?" asked Ghost, not understanding why Makarov would want to terrorize a bookstore.

"To buy books. What else?" said Roach, wondering if Ghost had ever done anything other then kill for a living, clapping Ghost on the back he left with, "Ghost, you gotta get out more. Meet you at the car."

"Rise of the Loyalists

Day 5 - 06:06

Cpt. John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - War Criminal

Caucasus Mountains

Soap had checked the defensibility of the small house while the others slept, and he hadn't been impressed with what he saw. Over the last five years Kamarov had made no major renovations to the house, for example the external electric cables that had been so easily exploited then were still easy targets for anyone with half a brain. Soap sighed, this house would be the death of everyone inside if Shepherd's men showed up. They might be leaderless and severely weakened but they still had superior numbers and equipment, two things that could spell disaster for Soap and Price. Soap returned inside from the cold to the interior of the house, enjoying the leap in temperature. Kamarov was toddling around his kitchen, when Soap walked in passing Nikolai who was asleep on the couch.

"Ah, my friend. May I interest you in some vodka?" asked Kamarov, his usual cheerful self.

"No, that's fine. Kamarov, where are the rest of your men?" asked Soap, wondering where Kamarov's platoon of Loyalists had gotten off to.

"My unit was disbanded. The Loyalists are no more." said Kamarov, taking a swig of vodka.

"What? But the Ultranationalists have taken over your country! You're just going to roll over and let them keep it?" asked Soap, flabbergasted that Kamarov was letting the Ultranationalists get away with taking his country.

"Yes, it is what Vorshevsky asked of us. It is what we will do." replied Kamarov, watching the liquid slouch around in the bottle.

"Vorshevsky is a Ultranationalist! Why would you take orders from him?"

"Because, five years ago he was our leader." replied Kamarov, looking up from his bottle. "He's just a puppet for the real Ultranationalists. If we continue this civil war, we will only destroy the entirety of Russia. Russia can never prosper with two separate groups fighting for dominance, the people need to decide what government they want running this country. We cannot decide for them."

"So that's it? You're just going to give up because you might destroy your precious country?" asked Soap, his patience growing thin for Kamarov's sad-sack story, "An ocean away is America, a country more then willing to burn this country of your's to the ground. You need to reinstate the Loyalists."

"And why should I do that?" asked Kamarov, more interested in drinking his vodka and tending to his garden then fighting for independence, "I have already watched generations of this countries young men die for trivial purposes. Why should I watch more die?"

Slamming his fist on the small table, Soap said "Because, this won't be like last time. This won't be a small-scale special forces op. this will be a full-scale invasion. Let the Americans slug it out with them, then went they've got 'em on the ropes, take back your country."

Kamarov grinned, "You may have a point my friend. We may be weak but we are not dead. The Loyalists will rise again!"

"Approved Reading List"

Day 5 - 08:43

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141 - Ultranationalist

Ten miles south of the Georgian-Russian Border

Ghost found it odd to be without his trademark mask, a balaclava would attract more attention then his scars. Ghost had managed to find a small section of the store that contained books in English, and picked up a copy of Seven Troop. Roach came up to him piled high with magazines, along with a novel sized comic booked called, Van Von Hunter.

Ghost picked up the small book and flipped through the first few pages, "What the 'ell is this? Is this a comic book?"

"No, it's manga. It's Japanese." said Roach, snatching the book from Ghost's hands.

"Aren't you a little old for that stuff?" asked Ghost, assuming that twenty-three was a little old for reading comics or as Roach put it, 'Manga'.

"I don't think their's an age limit. Besides look at this chick's rack." replied Roach, flipping open to one of inside pages. In the process losing on of his magazines, which Ghost picked up.

Ghost flipped the magazine over so he could see the cover and found a naked woman starring back at him.

"Playboy? Seriously, Roach? This is what you're doing while I'm out there getting shot at?" asked Ghost, enjoying the look of pure embarrassment on Roach's face.

"I read it for the articles!" said Roach, making a grab for the magazine, Ghost keeping it safely out of his reach.

"That's what they all say.." said Ghost, before letting out a whistle, "Whoever this Jenna Allen is, she's got a hell of a body."

**Read and Review!**

**Seven Troop by Andy McNab is the book Ghost picked up in the store. It's about the 22nd**** regiment, which is the same unit Ghost was in prior to the 141.**

**Van Von Hunter by Mike Schwark and Ron Kaulfersch is the manga that Roach picks up in the store.**

**Playboy is another real magazine.**

**All of the above I do not own, not even Playboy. **

**Plus, a small reference to Same Stuff, Different Day. **


	7. Chapter 7

"Lunatic"

Day 5 - 08:56

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141 - Ultranationalist

Ten miles south of the Georgian-Russian Border

Ghost groaned, of course they'd picked the day when the store only had one cash register open. Anatoly was humming softly to himself, Roach was leafing through his comic books, and Ghost was scowling. Finally, his time to pay for his things had come. He laid the hardbound book on the counter and reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet. When he looked back up, he found a plump Spanish man looking back at him.

"Roba." breathed Ghost, reaching for his M9.

"Come again?" asked the man.

"Don't play dumb with me, Roba." growled Ghost, his M9 pointed at the man.

"Ghost, what the hell are you doing?" asked Roach, trying to get Ghost to lower his pistol.

"I let this bastard get away once, I'm not letting it happen again." snarled Ghost, "This time, I will kill him."

"Why do you want to kill this cashier so bad?" asked Roach, seeing a plump Russian man terrified of the scarred man holding a pistol on him.

"He's not a bloody cashier. This is the bastard that killed my family!" growled Ghost, "And you're not going to stop me."

"Ghost clam down. Take a breath and think about what you're doing." said Roach, trying to clam Ghost before he took drastic action against the cashier.

"So you've betrayed me as well. You think I'm crazy, don't you?" replied Ghost, his voice icy, "How do I know you weren't working with Roba this whole time?"

"Ghost, I'm not. Just put the gun down and we'll-" started Roach, being cut off by the sound of a 9mm firing. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, he looked down to a stain growing on his shirt. "Ghost? Why?"

"I'll let you off easy, but him?" said Ghost, pointing a finger at 'Roba', "He won't be so lucky."

"In other news…"

Day 5 - 09:00

Cpt. John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - War Criminal

Caucasus Mountains

Soap found himself idly watching TV while Kamarov was busy trying to reform the Loyalist movement. In between commercials for 'natural male enhancement' and the 'thigh blaster', he heard a name that peeked his interest. But he wasn't prepared for what he'd see next.

The newscaster was standing in front of a bookstore, reporting on a 'hostage situation'. But what caused Soap to take worry was the fact that he saw Roach in the background being attended to by paramedics, but Ghost was nowhere to be seen. The newscaster said a few more things, among the words 'lunatic', 'maniac', before the face of an unmasked Ghost appeared on the screen. She went on to describe his history of prior military service, and his state of mental health. Behind her was a battalion of FSB troops and judging from what he'd heard, Soap wouldn't put it past the police to skip the handcuffs and go straight to body bag. Soap sighed, realizing how this whole incident may have in some way been his fault. His thoughts were interrupted by the lights and all other electronics in the house dying. Someone had cut the power.

"Back to you, Steve"

Day 5 - 09:17

Sgt. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141 - Prisoner of War

Ten miles south of the Georgian-Russian Border

The paramedic had bandaged Roach's chest and informed him to go see a doctor, Roach had brushed him off and said the wound would heal on it's own. He continued walking until he'd reached the police barricade, the FSB trying to keep civilians behind the barricade. Asking the trooper only caused him to be informed, "You've already been shot once by that madman. You want to make it twice?" Seeing that the guards would not let him past, he decided to make a run for it. He hurtled the barricade and set off in a dead sprint for the bookstore entrance, an FSB soldier tackling him to the ground. Undeterred he shrugged the man off and continued onward, until every FSB trooper and several police officers were trying to hold him down. His eyes swept over the crowd watching him wrestle with the police, most of them jeering. But one individual stood out, a thin woman who he instantly recognized as a particular maid.

"Natasha! It's me, Roach! Ghost is inside! You need to calm him down before the police move in!" shouted Roach, his English allowing only her to understand him. The rest of the crowd thought he was merely yelling obscenities at the police, and judging by the rifle butts to the chest they thought so too.

She slinked through the crowd before running towards the bookstore, the police being too concerned with keeping the Special Forces soldier to the ground could only watch as she ran past. Roach grinned with triumph as she entered the bookstore undeterred, only for him to hit in the face with the butt of an F2000.

"No escape"

Day 5 - 09:20

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141 - Ultranationalist

Ten miles south of the Georgian-Russian Border

Ghost hummed softly to himself, running the edge of his knife along Roba's cheek, smiling with glee at the blood pooling on the man's shirt. He was going to make Roba suffer for what he had done. And he would enjoy every minute of it.

"Which finger do you want to lose first?" asked Ghost, a sickening grin spreading across his face.

Roba only cried out in pain as Ghost pressed the knife to one of his fingers, the knife slamming into the armrest of the chair, the finger no longer attached to it's owner.

"You think because you plea with me that I will let you go?" asked Ghost, sadistically removing fingers at random, "Well, you're dead wrong!"

And he continued to cut the poor Russian, laughing at the man's pleas for mercy. Natasha found him standing over the mutilated body of a Russian cashier, blood pooling at his feet. He merely smiled as he plunged the knife into the man's chest, watched him wail briefly before the cashier slumped over himself, dead.

**Read and Review, or a sic Ghost on you!**


	8. Chapter 8

"Mind Games"

Day 5 - 09:22

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141 - Psychopath

Ten miles south of the Georgian-Russian Border

Ghost took a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm that Roba was dead before he walked over to Natasha. For every step he took towards her she took one away, finally she found herself backed into a corner.

"Sorry you had to see that." he said, then noticing that she was trembling, he added, "Are you alright?"

In a small voice she asked, "How could you do that?"

"He deserved it." came the reply, "He would have done far worst to me."

"But you killed an innocent man!" she shouted, "You killed him for no reason at all!"

"Watch you tone." said Ghost, his voice icy.

"Watch my t-!" she was cut off by his lips pressing against hers.

Lust. Every fiber of his being wanted her. Now. He'd barely been able to contain himself when she first showed up, barely able to finish off Roba. But their was nothing to hold him back now, she was all his. She tired to pry him off of her but he proved more then a match for a petite Russian woman. His hand slowly slid down her thigh, her body trembling at his touch, her eyes wide with fear.

"Please…please..don't do this…" she pleaded, fighting against his touch, fearing for how far he might actually go.

"Guardian Angel"

Day 5 - 09:23

Sgt. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141 - Prisoner of War

Ten miles south of the Georgian-Russian Border

Roach felt a pit in his stomach, he couldn't exactly tell if it was due to the bullet lodged in his chest or a fear for Natasha. He already felt bad for sending her in there, who knew what Ghost might do in his current state? She didn't deserve to become involved in this madness, he'd been shot by Ghost and that was considered 'getting off easy' who knew what he would do to her. Within two minutes his fear for her safety had turned into general panic, before he consciously realized what he was doing he was smashing through the plate glass door of the bookstore.

"Natasha?" he called, noting that his bandages had become stained with blood.

He listened intently for a response, a muffled squeal sending him sprinting through the rows of books. Towards the rear of the store was a crimson stain in the carpet, leading to a back room. Roach stacked himself on the door, his heart racing. He reached on his hip for his pistol and mentally kicked himself for leaving it in Makarov's safe house, their wasn't a way in hell anyone could prepare for this.

"Roach takes the Maid"

Day 5 - 09:26

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141 - Psychopath

Ten miles south of the Georgian-Russian Border

Fear. Two parts of Ghost's subconscious were fighting for dominance. One wished to continue forth and exert his dominance over her, while the other merely wished to do everything in it's power to keep the fear from her eyes, to comfort her, to hold her. It was a losing battle, it had taken every once of Ghost's strength to keep his hatred and anger in check. This past week had weaken him both mentally and physically. It had taken him months to rein in his anger after the death of his family, the thought of relapse had always been a question for another day, something that would never happen. But it had. His grip slackened and she fell to the floor, promptly returning her clothing to her body.

The door flung open, followed closely by frightened Roach. Roach went pale at the sight of the corpse in the corner, but that moment of worry became anger when he noticed Natasha grabbing her shirt off the floor. He stalked across the room to where Ghost stood in the center.

Ghost sighed, "I know what you're going to say. And I can explain."

Before Ghost could explain himself, he found himself staring straight into the cold hard cement of the backroom floor.

"You're a sick-sick fuck, you know that?" spat Roach, checking to make sure Natasha was in good health.

Ghost started to raise himself off the floor and said, "Roach, listen to me. I can explain."

Roach drug Ghost to his feet and readied his fist for a second try at his lieutenant's face, "Explain what? That you tried to rape the one person who ever gave a damn about you? I can understand you having weird dreams and seeing shit. And I don't want to know what you were hallucinating when you tried to rape Natasha, but damnit, you need help, Ghost. You need professional help."

"I know. That's what I was trying to say." replied Ghost, before once again finding his face lying on the concrete.

"Glad to know we're on the same page." growled Roach, tossing one of Ghost's spare masks to him before turning to lead Natasha out of the hellhole.

"House Guests"

Day 5 - 09:11

Cpt. John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - War Criminal

Ten miles south of the Georgian-Russian Border

It had been a lucky break that Price had decided to cover the house from the hills above, he'd managed to tally a dozen kills in a few minutes. Kamarov had been in charge of covering the cellar, he stood guard next to a stack of bodies three feet high, proof of the effectiveness of an AK-47 at close range. Nikolai covered the front lawn with a Dragunov and his trusty AK-74U. Soap slammed the last magazine into his USP.45 and took out the final Shadow Company trooper as he tried to flee into the woods surrounding the house.

"Area clear." radioed Soap, securing a M4A1 from one of the soldiers.

"The same down here, Captain Price." came Kamarov's voice.

"Da. I am clear, too." replied Nikolai.

"I've got one hostile on thermal." reported Price, "Looks like he wants to try and take us all by himself."

The sound of an M14 EBR broke the morning air.

"Shit." grumbled Price.

"What is it now?" asked MacTavish, shoving another magazine into his vest pouch.

"The bastard is still coming this way." Another shot. "You've got to be kidding me." Another shot. "Soap. You may have a problem."

"And that would be?" asked the younger Captain, loading the underslung grenade launcher.

"He's in the ho-" started Price, only to be cut off by the sound of Kamarov's AK-47 and screams in Russian. An out of breath Kamarov stumbled up the stairs and threw himself behind the couch and began fumbling with a magazine. A series of powerful stomps resounded through the house, the sound of the stairs breaking under the weight splitting the silence between the two soldiers. A massive figure drew itself through the door and readied it's weapon, a powerful M240 light machine gun, the pair opened fire on the monster only for their bullets to merely ricochet off it's thick Kevlar hide.

"Damnit! These guns are worthless!" shouted Kamarov, loading another magazine into his AK-47 while the massive soldier tore through the couch with it's machine gun.

"Do you have anything bigger?" shouted back Soap, trying to be heard over the noise of the LMG.

"I have a .50Cal in the basement!" responded Kamarov, "Would that do the trick?"

"I sure hope so." said Soap, clamoring over the couch, a running slide put him between the Juggernaught's leg's before he could bring up his machine gun. Soap took the stairs four at a time, dodging 7.62mm bullets the entire way. At the bottom of the stairs, like some holy artifact lay the Barrett M82 sniper rifle. Soap snatched up the 30 pound weapon and returned upstairs to find Kamarov in the same situation that he was in when he left, he took a knee and leveled the weapon. Ten shots rang out and the tank of a man fell dead, hitting the floor with a massive thud. Not that anyone heard on account of Soap's rifle, which had deafened everyone in the house. Soap could one smile in smug satisfaction while Nikolai complained

**Sorry, it's been so long. Had a week of hell, I mean band camp. And then a case of writers block. So their I said it, it is my fault. **

**As I always say, Read and Review! **

**(Seriously, I say this every single time…)**


	9. Chapter 9

"Worse then I thought"

Day 5 - 09:34

Sgt. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141 - WIA

Somewhere in Russia

Apparently, the cure to Ghost's insanity was a couple punches to the face. Either that or something had snapped him out of it, because the difference between the Ghost in the bookstore and the Ghost that was sitting next to him in the back of Natasha's car was like night and day. In fact, he'd surrendered his M9 to Roach as soon as they got to the car, something that was unlike anything Ghost normally did. Also, since his discovery of the wound to Roach's chest he'd become the naggy mom of the group.

"Roach, you need to see a doctor about that wound. The possibility of internal bleeding is extremely high, if you don't get help soon you'll…" said Ghost.

"Ghost, I'm fine." snapped Roach, despite protests from his body. His chest felt like someone had lit him on fire, something that had happened a week earlier.

"Roach, you're not fine. You need medical help, you should have went to the hospital instead of playing hero." scolded Ghost, knowing full well that Roach had told the paramedics he'd 'walk it off'.

"And if I didn't play, 'hero?' What would have happened to her?" asked Roach, with Ghost's continued silence he added, "That's what I thought."

Ghost looked out the window for awhile, and said nothing. His silence was broken by the sight of a large concrete building several stories high, the large red cross on the sign out front telling him all he needed to know.

"A hospital? Seriously?" asked Roach, before he took a gulp of air, "I'm fine…like I said before…"

Ghost swung around to Roach's side of the car to help him out, Roach pushed him out of the way and managed to take all of five steps before he collapsed on the pavement.

"I'm…fine…I'm fine…just tripped…" his heart was beating like he'd just run a marathon and he was acting like he'd never took a breath in his life. Ghost decided that letting him hobble his way into the hospital would take too long so he scooped up the young soldier in his arms and carried him across the parking lot.

"Put…me…down…I..don't need….carried…" grunted Roach, still sucking in air like a blowfish.

"Roach, we've come to far for me to let you die because you're too damn proud to let me carry you." said Ghost, sidling in before the sliding doors opened completely.

"Like a Soap Opera, with guns"

Day 5 - 10:21

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141 - Concerned Friend

Somewhere in Russia

The nurses had been fawning over Roach since he'd arrived, Ghost had been forced to remain outside while Natasha left to get a hotel for the night, most likely an excuse to avoid being alone with him for any length of time, after what had happened he couldn't really blame her. His skull mask had gotten him some odd looks from patients and hospital staff alike but he'd stop caring long ago, hell, the FSB could drag him off to a life sentence for all he cared. At least he'd gotten Roach the help he needed. Everything after that was just a bonus. Presently, the doctor let himself out of Roach's room having made sure the Sergeant was fully settled in, the mask had frightened the man but that wore off before Ghost's first wave of questions.

"Are you the boy's father?" asked the doctor, wondering how to start a conversation with a man wearing a skull mask in a hospital.

"No. I'm just a friend. Is he going to be okay?" asked Ghost, though the doctor's question had caught him slightly off guard.

"He'll be fine. He has a rupture in the serous membrane, which caused his blood to spill into the pleural space. We've inserted a chest tube to drain the blood, otherwise the blood would have prevented the lung from expanding, which most likely would have resulted in a collapsed lung." droned the doctor, before taking his leave after informing Ghost that the patient was awake and ready for visitors. Ghost let himself in and took a seat by Roach's bedside.

"Guess you were right…wasn't as well off as I thought…I was." said Roach, a slight smile on his face.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry I put you through all this…" said Ghost, holding Roach's hand.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about…I should have been more understanding…" replied Roach, "And besides…you got us away from Makarov…"

By this time, Natasha had returned only to find to grown men holding hands. She took a seat on the other side of Roach and as she did, Ghost rose from his seat and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" asked both the wounded Sergeant and the concerned friend.

"I've got a few loose ends to tie up." replied Ghost, closing the door behind him.

"Get off my lawn"

Day 5 - 10:32

Cpt. John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - War Criminal

Caucasus Mountains

"Leave this place. Today." said Kamarov, slightly more forceful then the previous time.

"But where will we go?" asked Nikolai, wiping sweat off his forehead with his jacket sleeve. Burying the bodies of thirty Americans plus a soldier wearing a full body suit of Kevlar is bound to cause a sweat.

"I do not care, so long as you leave." replied Kamarov, "Your presence has brought enemies to my doorstep! How can I rebuild the Loyalist movement with these kind of interruptions?"

"Kamarov's right. We need to get moving. I have a feeling these were only scouts." added Price, who was observing the Russian countryside with a M14 EBR lying on his lap.

"If that's so then I'd hate to see a full-scale assault force.." murmured Soap, loading various captured weapons into boxes.

"Good luck, Kamarov. Maybe we'll meet again in the future." said Price, shaking the Russian's hand.

"Yes. But do not take five years to come see me again!" replied the ever jolly Russian.

**The Drunk Fisherman, Thank you for your input. But lets remember that in campaign, I can take a RPG to the face, hide in a corner for 12 seconds and be back to killing with no problems. Another thing is no one complained when I had Roach survive a .44 magnum at point blank range, which based on what you've said would have turned his insides to mush.**

**Enough of that, Read and Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

"Do I Have to Think of Everything?"

Day 7 - 08:51

Vladimir Makarov

Ultranationalist

Georgian-Russian Border

Makarov was enjoying a steaming cup of tea while reading the morning paper. It was a wonderful way to spend such a beautiful Sunday morning. Makarov chuckled softly to himself, his problems had all sorted themselves out. Price and MacTavish would be busy trying to clear their names for the time being, obviously they would be coming for him, but all in due time. Secondly, his house guests had also made themselves scarce, Sanderson probably slowly drowning in his own blood somewhere and Riley had managed to get his face in the papers alongside his Captain's. The man would be an idiot to return, his men had tightened security since his departure. He was prepared to read the Sunday comics when a pale-faced Anatoly leaned in and said, "Sir, the front gate's gone dark."

"Anything on security?" asked Makarov, searching the rows of comics for his favorite.

"Nothing. Whoever did this wiped the footage." replied Anatoly.

"Did you send a team to investigate?" asked Makarov, sipping his tea.

"Well, no.."

Not looking up from his paper, Makarov said, "Deploy a squad to search the guard post. Then I want a clean sweep of the countryside. I want this intruder dead by nine o'clock, understood?"

"Y-yes, sir." replied Anatoly, retreating from the kitchen to alert the guards.

"The Idiot Returns"

Day 7 - 08:53

Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Task Force 141

Georgian-Russian Border

Predictable. Whether Makarov liked it or not, he was a very predictable man. Three squads were heading down the hill towards the guardhouse. They were nervous, he was positive he saw them flinch every time a twig snapped. Two squads fanned out into the hillside to search, no doubt for whoever knocked out the guard post. The other squad went to check the block building, unknowing to them, they'd walked straight into a trap. The radio he'd snatched off one of his victims let him hear everything they said.

"This is Team One. We're secured the guardhouse, we've found everyone but Belinski." said the squad leader.

"Understood. Keep looking. Any news from the other Teams?" asked the radio operator, Anatoly.

"Negative. Whoever this is, he's a ghost. Haven't found a single sign of the bastard."

"Keep looking, he can't have gotten far. Over."

"C-captain? Captain!" shrieked one of the Russian's no doubt from Team One.

"What the hell is it?" barked the Team Leader, "Have you found Belinski?"

"Y-yes, sir. I think you need to see this f-for yourself.." murmured the soldier.

Ghost grinned under his mask, the Russian had begged for his life like a boy begs for a puppy. Despite what anyone ever said, he wasn't fond of torture, but it had it's uses. Now being one of those times, while the Russians were more concerned about their friend they wouldn't realize that the building was positively laced with C-4 plastic explosives. During the night he'd managed to lay the explosives over a good portion of Makarov's safe haven, a shame he couldn't demo the house, but sacrifices had to be made. The blocky detonator lay in his hand, the slightest squeeze would level the guardhouse, the garage, and most of Makarov's bodyguards.

"What kind of sick fucker would do this to a person?" asked the Captain, before clicking on his radio, "We've found Belinski, he's dead. Someone tortured him to death. What do you want us to do?"Ghost squeezed the detonator and the C-4 placed inside the dead Russian's jacket exploded, killing anyone in the room with him. Meanwhile, Makarov's array of vehicles were also destroyed, cutting off his escape. The two squads in the field soon found that they too were in danger.

Ghost triggered his second remote, this one controlling the Bouncing Betty's laying in the field. The silver disks hopping roughly four feet in the air before spraying shrapnel in every direction. Before the Russians had any time to react the mines had left them without a head or at the very least extensive shrapnel damage. Ghost stood and began to move towards the house, no doubt Makarov already knew who was coming for him. Based on casualties, Makarov's men had been all but decimated in his ambush. Makarov and Anatoly would be all that remained of Makarov's once proud army. Ghost smiled beneath his mask, withdrew his Beretta M9 handgun and stalked down the hill towards the safe house.

"Come in. Respond if you are still combat effective. Repeat. Respond if you are still combat effective." droned Anatoly, his concentration solely on his radio. Makarov was in the other room clutching his M4A1 knowing full-well Ghost was hot on his trail.

"Save your breath. No one's going to call back." whispered Ghost, aiming his M9 at the back of Anatoly's skull. The bullet pierced the back of his skull and sent a spray of blood over his radio equipment. Makarov readied his M4A1 on the door, having heard the sound of Anatoly's demise.

"Just you and me, Makarov. None of your goons to protect you."

"They will kill you. No matter where you go, they will find you and kill you." threatened Makarov, creeping towards the door.

"At least I'll have the satisfaction of taking you with me." replied Ghost, firing his pistol. The rounds found their mark in Makarov's arm, causing him to lose his grip on his M4A1, the weapon clattered to the ground before Makarov's leg was shot out from under him. Ghost stood over the crippled terrorist with growing delight, and growled, "So we meet again, Makarov. I'm going to enjoy carving you up like a Christmas goose."

"When we going to Moscow?"

Day 7 - 09:00

Pvt. James Ramirez

U.S. Army Rangers, 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment

Washington, D.C.

"Can't believe we lost Allen to Hunter 2-7." grumbled Dunn, stowing his gear in the Humvee.

"Yeah. But those guys got seriously hammered during the battle, they could use someone who isn't green as grass." replied Ramirez, handing another bag to Dunn.

Dunn paused, and asked, "Like you?"

"Guess I was pretty green back then. How about now?" asked Ramirez, tossing his rucksack in the rear of the vehicle.

Getting behind the wheel, Dunn said, "If green is a rookie and red is a bad-ass then you'd be in the yellow range."

"And what would you be then, Mr. Big Shot?" asked Ramirez, strapping himself into the Humvee.

"Me? I'm honest to god as red as you can friggin' be." replied Dunn, steering the vehicle out into traffic.

Ramirez chuckled, "Bullshit."

"I'm telling your mama you said that."

"You're joking."

"Don't push it."

Foley was a man of action, not a man who enjoyed toiling behind a desk. He'd been working on an after action report on and off for the past week, it was due four days ago but no one was pushing it.

"You see that chick back there?" asked Dunn, strolling through the old building that was currently housing the leadership of the US Military stationed in Washington.

"And?" asked Ramirez, all he saw was a woman serving her country. They were all soldiers, gender wasn't a factor. The resent invasion had left a major void in man power, every available soldier was on the front line, proven they were male. Females hadn't yet reached the point to share the battlefield with the men yet, thus they had taken over the majority of behind the lines work, including security. Thus the current conversation.

"I swear she had hookers the size of my-" started Dunn, before stopping himself.

"The size of your what?" asked Ramirez, standing outside a door labeled 'Foley'.

"Not sure…don't remember where I was going with that one." replied Dunn, knocking on Foley's door.

"Come in." replied a muffled voice from beyond the oaken door.

The duo let themselves in, Dunn in front with Ramirez behind carrying a large manila envelope. The Private tossed them on the Sergeant's desk. "What are these?"

"Orders, said Dunn, "Straight from the desk of Colonel Marshall. See for yourself."

Foley tore off the seal of the envelope and withdrew the large sheet of paper.

"Isn't it great?" asked Dunn, leaning back in his chair his feet on the Sergeant's desk. "We're going to Moscow! Tip of the Spear!"

"Moscow.." breathed Foley, they were finally going. Ready to take the fight to the Russians.

"Loose Ends, All Tied Up"

Day 7 - 21:47

Sgt. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141 - WIA (Again)

Somewhere in Russia

Something roused Roach from his sleep. He'd never been a light sleeper but recent events had left him on constant look out, the result of one betrayal too many. The silhouette of a man against the darkness of the room, Roach already pulling his USP.45 out from under his pillow.

"Get the hell out of here or I will shoot you." growled Roach, his weapon trained on the unknown individual in his room.

"Now that's no way to treat the man who went out of his way to save your sorry ass." replied the unseen man.

"Ghost?" asked Roach, his pistol still unwavering.

"Yeah, it's me." replied the shadow, clicking on the bedside lamp. The soft light illuminated the room casting ghastly shadows on Ghost's skull mask. "Sorry I was gone so long. Had to tie up a few loose ends."

"With Makarov, I presume." murmured Roach, putting his handgun under his pillow again.

Ghost sighed, "Yes, with Makarov."

"Did you kill him?" asked Roach, not exactly sure how to respond no matter the answer.

"Outright? No. When it finally came to it, I couldn't pull the trigger. Though I do assume the FSB is having a field day with him right now. If he can even talk, he's defiantly going to need a hospital bed. I told him that once you'd got back on your feet he'd be the one in a hospital, and I'm a man of my word." said Ghost, leaning back in his chair. Wondering what the next day might bring.

**Like all good, or not so good things (take your pick) this had to come to an end at some point.**

**Hopefully, this ending didn't leave you with a bad taste in your mouth or whatever.**

**Also I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed this story.**

**The Drunk Fisherman - Did I ever say I was mad that you were tearing my story a new one? No? So don't worry about it, I understand where you're coming from and I'm fine with that.**

**It was nice to get some reviews from some of the heavy hitters, along with some favorites! **

**Maybe this is proof I'm maturing as a writer, maybe I'm just a game nut with too much time on his hands…the world may never know.**

**So, because I always tell you to, Review!**


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